


Alraune

by QuiteALotOfSodaPop



Category: Little Shop of Horrors (1986), Little Shop of Horrors - All Media Types, Little Shop of Horrors - Menken/Ashman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Inspired a little bit Venom, Plants, Seymour is a plant person, Transformation, Twoey becomes a decent plant, a mixture of elements from both the film and musical
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-08 05:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18887902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuiteALotOfSodaPop/pseuds/QuiteALotOfSodaPop
Summary: On the 21st day in the month of September (or was it the 23rd?), Seymour Krelborn encountered a deadly threat to his very existence. This enemy surfaced, like most often do, when he was minding his own business. Deciding to care for a plant that seemingly fell out of the sky, Seymour fails to realize that soon he and the plant will share a need for sunlight and a thirst of blood. Au!





	1. Chapter 1

"Hit by a Falling Star"

It was a lovely Thursday morning.

Business had , like many days before it, been slow.

On such slow, boring, non-profitable days like this, Mr Mushnik would let Seymour wander off to busy himself and to prevent the young man from destroying any more inventory in his clumsiness. Seymour wasn't a wandering soul, he had little friends (even less if he omitted his co-workers) to hang out with, and the streets of Skid Row weren't the type to be wandered by a waifish florist.

He did however, enjoy the Uptown wholesale flower market.

Mr Mushnik used to drag him along to the 5am market back when he was a boy, just barely beating the morning rush and getting back with enough time for Seymour to get his petal-covered tuchus to school. It helped that his guardian got better deals from the wholesalers when a sleepy doe-eyed child was clinging to him. Even years on some of the older wholesalers recognised Seymour as "Mushnik's boy" and would give him bushels to bring back to the store: at a reduced price of course.

One seller that Seymour was particularly fond of was Mr Chang. The old man imported and grew his own exotic plants, and had been sneaking the young botanist cuttings and clippings ever since he was a teen.

Mr Chang was there that morning, like many before it. Display tables were set up in front of his shop, showcasing his more unusual specimens. Mr Chang liked to import plants from all over - not just his native China - and had entire shelves and tables dedicated to cacti, succulents, and short squat trees called "bonsais" that grew as if they weren't contained in a coffee tin.

"Good morning, young man!" the old shopkeep smiled. "Business as usual?"

"Unfortunately." Seymour replied in a half-joke. "The shop has been empty all day, so Mr Mushnik gave me a break." He did a quick scan of the exterior tables. Dracaenas, peace lilies, gerberas, peonies, a row of sprouting sagaros and whatnot.

Nothing too unusual at a glance.

"Anything new today?" Seymour asked hopefully.

Mr Chang shook his head. "Not since last week. There should be a shipment of new Iris variates by the start of next month."

"Oh…" Seymour deflated a little. "I guess I'll have to wait until then."

He was always excited to see new, strange, and exotic plants for himself. Mr Mushnik only really bought flowers that he knew buyers would buy, and only really allowed Seymour to buy anything stranger than a daisy if Seymour could buy it out of his own pocket.

Still, he should browse a little more.

As he was scoping the cacti for a replacement for one he had accidentally over watered, something unusual happened.

At first he just thought an autumnal rain cloud had bustled in. Then it got dark.

Seymour's eyes immediately flickered to the sky, where he could see the Sun be quickly blotted out by a dark round shape.

"A solar eclipse? At this time of year?"

He stood there for what felt like hours, staring straight on into the Sun's halo. Even though rational thought told him to stop staring or less he go blind, Seymour couldn't tear his eyes away from the shape. He could hear cars and people stall as seemingly everyone was entranced by the skies. A strange humming sound filled Seymour's ears and without warning; a new darkness overcame him.

" **OW!** "

He came to seconds later, the sky back to it's original blue, and himself on the ground on his back. He felt like he had just been hit with a rogue baseball. There was a burning pain in his throat and his mouth felt like it was full of metal. He sincerely hoped he hadn't bitten his tongue or broken a tooth. He lay like that in a daze until Mr Chang ran to his side.

"Are you alright my boy?" the old man asked, trying his best to bend down on arthritic knees. "You looked dead on at the eclipse! I'm surprised you're not blind!"

Seymour opened his mouth to say something, only to be met with a violent upheaval. An angry nauseating pressure pressed against the roof of his mouth. He coughed and spluttered until a mass, no bigger than an apple, fell out of his mouth and into his palms.

In his hands lay a crumpled and very wet plant.

"I'm so sorry Mr Chang!" Seymour panicked, trying to think how his clumsiness could have led to this. "I think I almost swallowed one of your plants!"

The old man waved him off. "No worries, boy. A piece of bok choy probably fell out of my window planter." He finally managed to Seymour onto his feet and gave the plant a good look over. "Though I don't remember ever eating something like that."

Seymour agreed. The thing in his hand, although looking similar, didn't appear to be a piece of Chinese cabbage like Mr Chang suggested. The leaves twisted in a spiral pattern before ending at a large rose-like bud.

It was strange and unusual.

"How much?"

"Excuse me?"

"How much for this plant?" Seymour reaffirmed, wiping saliva off of it's form.

Mr Chang gave him strange look before answering. "I'll tell you what. For both the plant, and a tin to put it in, I'll take 2 dollars."

"A dollar ninety-five."

"Sold!"

With that, the strange plant was carefully moved into a waiting Maxwell House tin along with a cupful of moist dirt. After wrapping the bundle in newspaper, Mr Chang gave Seymour a few suggestions.

"It looks like bok choy to me, but it also looks a little bit like a succulent. Make sure to keep an eye on what it grows into and tell me when it's farther along."

Seymour beamed, holding his new treasure to his chest. "I will! Thank you Mr Chang!"

"Now get along before Mr Mushnik begins to wonder where you've been."

Seymour then paled.

"You're right! Goodbye Mr Chang!"

The old man smiled as Seymour bounded away, before going back to tend to his stock. After a moment or two he looked upwards.

" _Strange_." He thought to himself. " _I thought the eclipse wasn't until February._ "

* * *

 

"Where in heaven's name have you been?" Mr Mushnik yelled as Seymour stumbled into the store. "I've had three orders come I while you were gone! People outside have been running around because of some total eclipse, and you're out playing in traffic!?"

"Sorry, I was at the market Mr Mushnik!" Seymour apologized meekly. "And I found this strange and unusual plant. Well… more accurately it found me."

"I don't care who found who. Just put it downstairs with the rest of your time-wasters and help me man these orders!"

"Okay, Mr Mushnik!"

The older man huffed as Seymour stumbled down the stairs, only to call down seconds later. "And make sure to wipe that grass stain off your neck! It'll scare the customers!"

"What customers?" Seymour thought dryly, placing the news-wrapped bundle onto his end table. He peeled the wrapping away to reveal the strange bud to the dim basement light. The bud seemed to curl at the change in light, perking up like a bird to sunrise.

"At least you're a new face huh?" He spoke to the plant, knowing he wouldn't get an answer. It had been a habit ever since he was a child and had learned that talking to plants could help them grow due to the air humans breathed out helped nurture the plant's growth. "You gave me a fright. Landing on my face like that. I could have swallowed and digested you like a sprout if you hadn't been careful."

The bud looked at him as if it did not understand what he said. Most likely because it was a plant.

"Still, you're a real beautiful little thing." He cooed, running a finger over the top of the bud. The inner most petals started to unfurl, exposing a pinkish-blue center. Seymour moved his finger to look closer at the bud, only for it to curl close once more. "Don't be too shy. I won't hurt you. I just need to figure out what you are first-"

A shout came from above. "SEYMOUR!"

"I'm coming Mr Mushnik!" He responded, quickly rushing to the sink to wash whatever stain his boss had complained about. In the mirror he could definitely see small green marks around his mouth and neck - likely from where his new friend had hit him. A small rub with the washcloth cleared up most of the stain, though there was still a light bruise forming where he had the strange burning sensation earlier.

"That's gonna leave a nasty bruise." he said allowed, mostly to himself. "Another one for the collection I guess." He then addressed the plant, who was now seemingly preening at the attention. "I sure hope you don't turn out to be some kind of poison oak."

"SEY-MOUR!"

"Sorry Mr Mushnik!" As he tripped over his own feet to the stairs, pausing only to whisper. "I'll be back soon. Just keep photosynthesizing for now."

As Seymour Krelborn exited the basement he failed to notice something very crucial.

The tiny, strange, and unusual bud - was smiling.


	2. Classifications

“Classifications”

“Okay, little plant. Let’s find out exactly what you are.”

The plant’s wide bud seemed to perk up at the sound of it’s human carer.

Seymour had just finished his work for the day and bid his boss goodnight. Mr Mushnik didn’t live in the store like Seymour did, but rather had an apartment right above it that Seymour had stepped barely an inch into since he moved to the bowels of the shop at the ripe old age of fifteen. It had been liberating at the time, being the only kid in school with his “own place”. Even if said place was a basement storage room.

Having his own space allowed him to freely tend to his plants without any meddling roommates or nosy neighbors to complain. Nobody would mind if he kept an entire shelf to ferns or a wall of books.

Seymour sat on the edge of his cot with a pile of textbooks next to him. The plant was seated where he had placed it the night before on the end table. The pod looked a bit greener after a round of misting but hadn’t changed much since he bought it.

Opening a textbook, Seymour flipped to his least likely candidate.

“See this?” He held up the page titled “Rosa”. “This is a regular, no frills, vanilla, rose.”

The page showed just that; a picture, a painting, and a short description of a rose plant. The picture showed it at full bloom, while the painting showed it as a peaking bud.

The plant made a high-pitched wolf whistle.

Seymour blushed and quickly turned the book back to face him. “None of that! You’re far too young!” He flipped a page or two and lingered on page of different cultivars. “At least you’re not a normal rose. Then again… you could be a Rosa x centifolia.”

The plant tilted it’s pod in confusion.

“Moss rose. You do have mossy fuzz on your bottom.” Seymour clarified, gaining a disagreeing shake in response. “No? Then maybe you could be a green Chinese rose. It would make sense for Mr Chang to have you in stock.”

Seymour flipped a few more pages, becoming more and more aware that his new friend was also aware of Him. If the plant wasn’t already strange and unusual, he would be terrified to see it move and act the way it did. He knew of people who said that their pets could understand what they were saying (and thought them to be exaggerating) but the way the plant reacted to his voice and movements suggested some kind of thinking power.

Maybe the plant was a nerd in the social hierarchy of botanical life.

“It’s weird. Some of your leafs are like an avocado plant but your stems are more like a strawberry.” He let out a tired sigh, smiling when he could hear a small high-pitch mimic. “Are you getting bored? I haven’t even touched upon what else you could be-”

The plant made an angry squeak and moved to maul the book.

“Okay, okay! I’ll put away the literature!” Seymour laughed, putting the book away with it’s brethren. The pod could barely reach past the edge of it’s tin and was coming at him with the ferocity of a rabid chihuahua. “We can review this once you grow a little bit bigger.”

He suddenly became aware of a dull ache in his throat.

“Man I’m thirsty.”

He walked over to the sink and poured himself a glass of water, taking a big gulp. It was then he caught an alarming sight in the mirror.

The bruise on his throat was bigger.

“You sure did leave a number on me little guy…” He mused, running his slightly damp hand over the mark. It had turned an angry green overnight, deepening in the center where Seymour suspected the plant had become lodged in his pipe. “No worries. A couple of days and it’ll clear up on it’s own.”

He was surprised when he went to take another sip of water - the glass was very much empty and his thirst no less sated. So he shrugged and poured another glass.

And another after that.

And another after that one.

And one more for good luck.

Gasping, he wiped the lines of dew from his mouth. “I must be overheating or something. I can’t seem to get enough water into me.” He had a thought to open the basement window for air but decided against it, the risk of a rat crawling in or a drunk using the gap for target practice was too high.

The plant mimicked his gasp, leafs curling towards it’s bud like it was baking in the sun.

“You’re thirsty too?”

A nod.

“Okay, let me just get my misting bottle.”

He filled the oil-can shaped bottle with the same tap water and walked back over to the end table, making sure to aim the nozzle away from his bed.

The plant lapped at the spritz of moisture, a small leaf poking around the bud like a tongue licking it’s lips.

“All better?”

The bud smacked it’s “lips” contentedly before ejecting a jet of water square into it’s carer’s face. It shook wildly, making a sound like it was laughing at a hilarious joke.

Seymour puffed his cheeks and frowned. “Maybe when you grow up you’ll grow some manners.”

The plant pursed the seam of it’s pod and made a raspberry-type sound.

“Any more of that and you’re grounded Mister.”

The plant looked like it wanted to say something but decided against it.

Seymour continued searching his textbooks feverishly, away from the disinterested eyes (or lack of) of his new friend - glass of water on standby. Many of his books were leftovers from his school days or bought at a bargain bin at the market. The few gardening magazines he had collected spoke of a rising trend in swiss cheese plants and rhododendrons being brought into the home, though Better Homes & Gardens talked about introducing more “modest” plants like hostas or mints to the garden.

It was all very perplexing.

There must have been some kind of demand for the new and unusual plant for it to wind up in Mr Chang’s stock. Unless it was a stowaway. Carried on the winds or waves until it reached suitable soil. Gripped by the husk by a bird until it was dropped. Or maybe it had been accidentally swept up by a commercial farmer hundreds of miles away before making it to ship across the world.

He yawned loudly, unable to hold in a laugh as the plant once again mimicked him.

“I guess we both better hit the hay before my brain runs dry. Who knows - maybe I’ll find out what you are by accident.” He shuffled quietly out of his day clothes and into his pajamas, at one point covering the plant’s bud to preserve his decency. He pulled the blankets over him, snuggling in deep to escape the autumn chill. “Good night.” He called out to the room despite knowing that he wouldn’t get a response like many night before it.

As Seymour Krelborn drifted off to dreamland, a tiny voice whispered from the end table.

“… _night_ …”

* * *

 

Audrey came in late again.

It was normal. She often came in late on account of working two jobs. Seymour wasn’t really sure what her other job was but it apparently paid decent money and Audrey didn’t like it as much as working at the shop. Whatever job it was, it must be very exclusive. He once asked her jokingly if it had any use for a scrawny florist like him and she responded with a sharp yip and had to retreat into the back room to calm herself down.

At least she didn’t rub in it.

She came in that day at three in the afternoon, long after lunch time and just barely before the subway rush hour. Her hair was in it’s usual curled bob and her dress for the day was a mermaid skirt that gave off the exaggerated shape of a bluebell. Many would call her sense of fashion gaudy, but Seymour thought she look radiant no matter what she wore.

However, the bruises on her wrists were certainly not fashion statements.

“Hey Seymour!” She greeted brightly, store bell ringing with her arrival. “Did anything big happen while I was gone?”

“Not really. It’s been pretty dead all afternoon.” Seymour smiled at her with a look that could only be described as “hopeless”. “Mr Mushnik did the restock this morning and left me with the store.”

“Any sales?”

“Just an order of lilies for a funeral. A few students from the Skid Row Middle School came for suggestions on homecoming flowers - though I think one of the kids ate a daisy on the way out.”

“Now that’s too bad.” Audrey made a disappointed hum as she rounded the counter. “I mentioned to Mr Mushnik about advertising for Halloween but he didn’t seem too interested.”

“Flowers? For Halloween?” He asked, not sure even if there was a Halloween-type flower.

“Yeah! I was talking to one of the girls and they said lots of people buy marigolds on Halloween to bring to church. Some kind of Catholic thing.” She explained, getting closer to the florist. “We could even sell brambly thorns for decorations instead of tossing them out and-”

She suddenly stopped talking, eyes wide. Seymour was about to ask her what was wrong when a manicured finger tugged at his collar.

“Oh my!” Audrey gasped, a trace of worry on her breath. “Seymour…”

“What is it Audrey? Is something wrong?”

“You’re neck!” She whispered, rummaging through her purse before pulling out a compact. “It’s all bruised up. Look.”

Seymour peered into the powder-stained glass and saw; like Audrey had said; that the bruise on his neck was not only still there, but it had grown larger overnight. He tilted the compact at different angles, hoping that it was only a trick of perspective. But no. He wouldn’t be so lucky.

“Seymour…” Audrey broke him out of his daze, placing a comforting hand on his back. “Has someone been… not so good to you?”

“What? No, why?” He may have answered a little bit too fast, as the effect only made Audrey even more concerned.

“Because if someone is hurting you then…” She pursed her in lips as if she was trying to hold down a ferocious anger. “Then I’ll hunt ‘em down and smack ‘em into orbit!”

The florist could only smile sheepishly at the threat. Audrey could be fiercely protective of who and what she cared about - almost too fierce at times.

“It’s nothing like that Audrey! I just got hit with a plant while a the market a few days ago.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh thank goodness. But how did a tiny plant do that to your neck?”

“I think it was because my head was craned up to look at the eclipse, it landed on me at a weird angle.”

“Oh Seymour…” She went back to her usual grin. “What sort of plant was it?”

“Well thats the strange part. I have no idea.” Seymour rounded back around the counter to show her his assailant, having not moved it since the night before.

“Really? I thought you knew about all sorts of strange and unusual plants!” She gasped disbelievingly, following him until he started descending the basement stairs. She didn’t dare go down into his home uninvited after all. “Did you get it from Mr Chang’s like the others?”

Seymour reply echoed from below. “Yeah! He thinks it fell out of his window planter!” A scuffling noise occurred as he spoke once more; this time not to his co-worker. “It okay little guy, I’m just introducing you to somebody.”

Audrey listened on confused. Seymour emerged seconds later carrying a tiny coffee tin, containing what looked like the freakiest plant Audrey had ever seen.

The plant made a tired smacking sound with it’s “lips” as if it had been disturbed from a long nap. It stretched and craned it’s vines, scoping out it’s new surroundings. It paused when a vine detected the bright blue dress. The bud reached forward and made a sniffing noise, confused whether or not Audrey was truly a beautifully tall flower.

Audrey knelt down, breathing heavily. “Oh my… Aren’t you strange?” She ran a soft nail along the top of the bud, the pod leaning to meet the contact. “And very beautiful. Seymour,” She turned to look at her botanist friend as he carefully cradled the tin in his hands. “This is truly an amazing find.”

“Do you have any idea what it is Audrey?” He asked hopefully.

She shook her head. “Sorry. The closest I can think of is a Venus Flytrap. But I don’t think they look anything like this.” She giggled as the plant began making a purring noise, clearly enjoying the attention. “And they're not nearly as charming.”

The plant cooed and opened it’s “mouth”, indicating that it was needy for something.

Seymour had been carefully recording the plant’s habits over the past few days, and from those habits he concluded that it was very picky.

“Think I need to give him some plant food soon.” He started walking into the backroom where all the fertilizers and sprays were kept, Audrey following behind him. “I tried watering him yesterday and he literally spat it out at me.”

“Maybe he’s a desert plant?” She suggested, helping him reach a packet of cornstarch on a higher shelf. “I hear that they can get confused if there’s too much water.”

“True. Or he could be a rainforest plant and I’ll have to get up every two hours to feed him.”

“Like a baby.”

“Exactly like a baby.” He smiled at the huffing sound the plant made towards the comparison.

Cornstarch wasn’t exactly the haute-cuisine of plant supplements; but it was cheap and Mr Mushnik didn’t like to haul bags of literal bull dookie into the store. It would also be a good substitute until they figured out just what the plant exactly was. Seymour would be crushed if he accidentally killed his new friend by feeding him the wrong thing.

The plant shimmied as sprinkles of cornstarch landed on it like powdery snow. A few shakes later and it seemed content enough with it’s feed to curl up tight like it was tucking itself into bed.

“There, that’ll keep ya.” Seymour petted the bud softly, knowing that it would go back into it’s passive state for at least a few more hours.

He suddenly felt very tired himself.

Audrey noticed the look on his face immediately. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just… I think I might have spent so long taking care of the plants that I neglected myself.” He leaned against the worktable as a wave of dizziness hit him.

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Yeah! Well…” He looked away sheepishly. “I been drinking loads of water.”

Audrey tutted and began leading him to the front door. “You silly-billy. Let’s put up the break sign and get you some lunch.”

“Won’t Mr Mushnik be mad?”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” As she held the door open for him, she continued. “Sides, I need to eat too before I go out on my date tonight.”

As Seymour fumbled with the store keys, he look on into the backroom where the plant sat, almost looking back at him. For some reason he felt a twinge of guilt leaving it alone in an empty store. Maybe this was what pet owners feel like when they go to get groceries?

Before he turned over the sign and locked the door, he whispered. “I’ll be back soon, buddy. I just need to get a little food myself. Bye!”

As the door clicked shut, all sound exited the store. Audrey and Seymour had turned the corner and continued on to Schmendrick’s for a deli meal. And in the din of the back storeroom, a coffee tin stirred. The plant had awoken from it’s false sleep and began looking around - for it was truly the first time it had been alone since arriving here.

The “Seymour” was an exceptional caretaker, though a little bit dense to his needs. And the new “Audrey” was an interesting being to encounter.

It had to get out of this “florist” though, if it wanted a chance at an actual meal.

It shimmied from side to side, trying to move or at least knock over it’s tin. Whoever had the idea to contain it within a metal cell was foolish to think they could tame it’s growth. After a minute or two of fussing it managed to move a least an inch in distance. A few more and it could be out the door and into the mud of the outside world where it could spread and spawn and absorb all the life blood it wanted.

It was here that the plant realized that it was sitting on a table four feet from the ground, and that any fall could severely damage it’s already frail bud. And the only ones likely to remove it from this dangerous place had just abandoned it for an unknown length of time.

Upon realizing this predicament it squeaked furiously for the next half hour.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! There will be more updates soon and thank you very much! I will also like to give thanks to linadoonofficial over on tumblr for giving me the inspiration to finally post this!


End file.
